


the forest can tell i'm under your spell

by brophigenia



Category: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Actual Cinnamon Roll Harvey Kinkle, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, Kissing, OT3, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Threesome - F/F/M, a bit of underage drinking but offscreen, prudence is my queen okay, tell me sabrina doesn't watch bewitched and i'll tell you you're a liar, y'all know what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: Sabrina's the only thing they have in common.(AKA, Prudence Night is the most bisexual bisexual to ever walk the face of this planet, she is my queen, I love her, and I want her to have nice things. Nice things = Sabrina and Harvey. Obviously.)





	the forest can tell i'm under your spell

**Author's Note:**

> What even is this?

_ *** _

_ shadows twist in the night,  _

_ oh,  _

_ what a life.  _

_ *** _

Prudence does not intend to end up  _ caring for  _ the Spellman whelp. 

She does not intend it, but she was as good as gone when she opened up her wings and allowed the girlchild to slip beneath them, linking pinkies and linking destinies, red-dressed and berry-mouthed. 

Prudence does not intend it, but only a fool would deny something so self-evident, and so when she realizes that she does have an  _ attachment  _ to Sabrina Edwina Diana Spellman, she does not attempt to hide it. 

She is a jealous creature, she will admit— and why ought she be anything else? The Dark Lord gives many gifts, and only one of them is the right to covet and crave with impunity. 

For her part, Sabrina does not seem overly concerned with the way Prudence goes from pinky-linking in the halls to steering her about with a hand on her lower back. She only smiles that spoiled-girl smile she’d taken on since coming to the Academy of Unseen Arts full time, as if it is her own Satan-given right to bask in all the warmth and glory of Prudence Night’s undying  _ interest.  _

Prudence, to her own vague distaste, is hideously turned on by that smile, by the notion that Sabrina sees her as just another one of the Dark Lord’s shower of shining gifts. 

It matters little. Sabrina goes from tolerating Prudence’s attentions to welcoming them, until they are sleeping in each other’s slim twin beds and whispering secrets in classes and finding each other's’ eyes during communal shower time. 

Prudence finds herself  _ smiling,  _ and not in dark humor or vengeful anticipation. She finds herself not minding Sabrina’s frankly terrifically hideous pink flannel pajama sets. She finds herself going along with Sabrina’s do-gooder ideas, which do not falter with her Dark Baptism. 

(The girl is an angel, glowing, haloed, the pious light of the false god shining through her pores; the thought does not horrify Prudence, Queen of the Feast, as it should.) 

The first time she kisses Sabrina Spellman, it is a Wednesday and it is raining and Sabrina has come back to the dorm from brooding in the Greendale Woods. Probably thinking of her sweet mortal boy. Prudence’s fingers itch when she looks Sabrina’s way, across the room they all share. It’s only the two of them, Agnes and Dorcas having cleared out when they saw the liquid look in Prudence’s eyes and knew it was not for either of them to partake in. 

“Why do you insist on torturing yourself?” Prudence asks, airy, stretched out all along Dorcas’ bed and running her fingers over her sister’s embroidered velvet coverlet. “Thinking on the past. Thinking of things you can’t change.” 

Sabrina, rain-damp and pouty, gives her a look like  _ what would you have me do?  _

Prudence would have her do a great many things, but settles for flopping onto her back and arching into a bone-cracking stretch. “I could help you forget him, you know.” They do not need to speak the name to know which  _ him  _ Prudence is referring to. 

Sabrina sighs, long and weary. “I don’t want to forget Harvey, Prudence.” She explains, and crosses the room on stockinged feet, slip-sliding on the hardwood floor and utterly soundless, to crawl up onto Dorcas’ bed as well. It speaks volumes, that she has become so comfortable here that she does not feel like an intruder but instead is possessed with a careless propriety, convinced to her bones that she is not unwelcome. 

Her skin smells like peaches; Prudence’s mouth waters. 

“Then what do you want, Sabrina?” Prudence murmurs, all but soundless. 

Sabrina’s mouth twitches a little, eyes wet and wild, like maybe she’ll cry. The thought doesn’t disgust Prudence, doesn’t make her feel pity and revulsion for Sabrina’s weakness. 

There are many things lurking inside of Sabrina Spellman’s lovely meatsuit, but weakness is not one of them. 

This is something Prudence has had to learn the hard way. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sabrina whispers, ever the prim and proper consent-seeking social justice warrior. It’s sweet, if out of place in the cradle of this academy, this den of sin and blood. 

Instead of answering and giving herself away  _ (you can do anything to me; kiss me, maim me, I don’t care)  _ Prudence leans in and seals their lips together, an answer. 

Sabrina sighs into her mouth, sweet as honey, and they pass the afternoon like that, passing kisses back and forth, bodies entwined. 

Weeks pass, and months, until Prudence cannot remember a time without Sabrina Spellman in her life. She keeps the girl tucked up to her side. Her enemies become Sabrina’s; Sabrina’s enemies become hers. 

It would only make sense, therefore, for her loved ones to become Sabrina’s, and Sabrina’s loved ones to become hers. 

Still, Prudence is surprised, when she meets the human boy  _ (Harvey Kinkle)  _ again, and does not feel overwhelming, murderous loathing the way she did the last time they were face-to-face, and she realized who he was, whose blood ran in his veins, what his ancestors had done, what he and his  _ family  _ continued to do. 

A baby witch-hunter, and she does not want to kill him. No, instead she finds herself reluctantly fascinated by him, by the strong curve of his jaw and the childlike curl to his messy hair and the sweetly cruel lines of his mouth, generous to a fault. She imagines the way he must have touched Sabrina; gentle, of course, with those large, rough workman’s hands. Reverent, probably, as if Sabrina were some virgin martyr hung up on the wall in the house of the false god. Chastely, because they were hardly more than children the last time they laid hands upon each other, no matter that at that same age Prudence had been partaking in writhing orgies dedicated to the Dark Lord. 

The thought has her aching between the legs, imagining the two of them together; she has not allowed anyone else to touch her since Sabrina first kissed her on Dorcas’ bed, what feels like an eternity ago. Sabrina still clutches tight the trappings of mortality, of  _ morality,  _ and does not have a taste for  _ sharing.  _

Prudence wonders, though, what her stance on  _ being shared  _ might be. 

It does take a long while for it all to come together; long after Sabrina comes back from gallivanting with her recently-reunited mortals and tearfully confesses  _ kissing  _ the Kinkle boy, as if that is some grave cardinal sin. Prudence has to work  _ very  _ hard to quell her laughter, and it takes hours of soothing for Sabrina to finally accept that it’s  _ okay.  _

Between the two of them, Sabrina and Harvey, Prudence has all the unresolved sexual tension and childish longing and 60s pop music she can bear. If she has to listen to The Ronettes one more damn time, she thinks she’ll tear out her hair. 

_ (Be My Baby  _ is Sabrina’s song for when she is feeling fluttery and chipper and swoony over the Kinkle boy; Prudence finds out entirely by accident that  _ Heartbeat  _ by Buddy Holly is Sabrina’s song for when she is feeling fluttery and chipper and swoony over Prudence herself. The ensuing blush lasts for nearly two hours, and Prudence resorts to blood sacrifice to make it go away.) 

The first time that the Kinkle boy brings Prudence coffee along with Sabrina’s hot chocolate, Prudence blinks at him in baffled shock for upwards of three solid minutes. Sabrina takes the coffee from him and makes some lofty excuse about how Prudence is unused to basic human decency, but still Prudence cannot find it in herself to toss the stuff on the ground and trod over its spilt corpse with indignant rage. 

He smiles, abashed, and all but says  _ oh shucks  _ while scuffing his shoe on the ground. It’s frankly a bit sickening. 

Prudence is not at all charmed. Not one bit. 

“I hope you like it. I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I just kind of guessed.” Prudence raises an unimpressed brow at this and takes a sip, expecting black, strong coffee to match her personality. 

She is surprised by hazelnut syrup and cream; she very nearly moans in delight, but stops herself at the last possible second, clutching tight her dignity with both hands. 

“It shall do, mortal.” She manages, tossing her head and pretending not to see Sabrina’s thumbs up behind her back. She keeps pretending not to notice Harvey’s small, pleased smile. 

The first time she kisses Harvey Kinkle, it is a Saturday morning in July and the sunlight is streaming in through the windows of Sabrina’s room at the mortuary. They’d spent the night, the two of them curled like kittens in Sabrina’s iron-framed bed. Prudence had even let herself be talked into wearing a pair of Sabrina’s pajamas, a pale blue silk set with a row of neat pearl buttons down the front of the top that Sabrina had buttoned for her, tongue in cheek, the night before. 

Harvey had snuck in the window sometime past midnight; Prudence had been in such good spirits, so forgiving, that she didn’t even make a snide comment about how useless it was to sneak into a house full of witches, only laughed and moved aside so he could nestle in on Sabrina’s other side. There had been smuggled pink wine and Sabrina’s DVD collection of  _ Bewitched  _ to pass the night with, and Prudence had never felt so…  _ light.  _

She woke with the sunlight in her eyes and her front pressed to Sabrina’s back, an unfamiliar hand curled around her bare hip, beneath where her borrowed pajama top had rucked up around her ribs during the night. The hand was large and calloused and  _ warm,  _ and it was attached to a sleeping mortal whose relaxed face was almost too lovely to bear looking at. 

She’d trailed her fingertips up that hand, that forearm, that bicep, until she was scritching the short hair at the nape of his neck with her fingernails and stroking his earlobe with her thumb, impossibly fond and still half-asleep. 

His eyes opened and he smiled like the dawn breaking; Prudence realized then that the flutter she felt in her chest in response to his smile was the same as the one she felt whenever Sabrina looked her way. 

A _ mortal, _ and one with witch-hunting in his veins, no less. 

His mouth tasted like the wine they’d drunk the night before, gone stale from sitting on his tongue all night; he was a good kisser, focused and intent, and he curled his fingers more securely around her hip, tugging her closer. 

“Now  _ this  _ is a view I could get used to,” Sabrina’s crackly morning voice enthused from between them, and Prudence broke the kiss to look down at the newly-awoken witch. 

“I hope you know that this is all  _ your  _ fault, Spellman,” she informed the girl archly. “Before you came along, I would’ve never even thought to commit such acts of perversion.” 

“You’re welcome,” Sabrina said cheekily, and then dragged them both down with a peal of delighted laughter. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
